pretty men
by sincerelyours
Summary: Now Beck never wanted to be a prostitute, not really. But the money was good, the women better and the trips perfection, so he got over it.


**Disclaimer: Do not own Victorious**.

Now Beck never wanted to be a prostitute, not really. But the money was good, the women better and the trips perfection, so he got over it.

Well, prostitution is a harsh word. Beck likes to be called an escort, because it reminds him of women who have affairs with important politicians. These women are escorts, a variety of classy trendy sluts. If Beck is anything, he is classic, stylish and definitely a womanizer. So escort he is. He has a pimp too. Then again, Beck thinks pimp is kind of harsh. So to him, Sinjin VanQueef (as he calls him) isn't really a man to whom he owes a ridiculous amount of money. He is also not the man that he pays this debt through exchanging sexual favors with women. No, not really. Sinjy is just a dear friend who finds him hot babes that take him out to the hottest clubs and later screw his brains out. Not really a bad deal.

This is how Beck deals with the miniscule gnawing at his conscience every time he waits for a new client. Which happens to be the precise situation he's dealing with right now. It usually happens as he's drinking his first beer of the night, looking pretty dapper in an oxford by the bar. Albeit, the gnawing is microscopic, but it tickles for those ten or so minutes, and he's left in a weird moral limbo. He describes it to his escort friend Andre as suffering the sensation of having to sneeze for a straight fifteen minutes or so. Not horrible, but uncomfortable. However, the itch gets trumped by the lust every time, for Beck is a weak man who's aspirations in life don't really go beyond wanting to master five languages and have sex with a woman from every country. All Beck wants to do is to be a modern day Casanova. The fact that seducing woman helps out with his, uh monetary disadvantages; well that's just a plus.

A sharp jab to his right ribcage jolts Beck out of his troubling moral woes. He looks at Andre with disdain, but finds his friend to be rather distractedly examining two women who had so kindly taken the stools right next to them at the bar. Beck eyes them over as well, searching for the golden bangles that would alert them that they were indeed their clients. He finds the jewelry gently dangling from both their ankles. Andre seemed to have found them as well, as he stretches his hand out and starts chatting up the redhead. Beck lets out an appreciative sigh, and reaches for the girl who was nearest. Tracing the tribal band she has tattooed on her wrist, he really looks her face. Wild brown hair, red thin lips, cheek bones and pretty eyes. She looked like his cousin's ex-girlfriend. Definitely Hispanic, which was lucky. He hadn't tried out his sexual ventures on the lower half of the Americas just yet. She places her hand in his and gently motions it to his mouth.

"You see, if this was a movie, you'd kiss my hand and ask what such a beautiful woman was doing in such a place like this without a man glued to her side." She laughs charmingly and Beck can see that she's nervous. He brushes his lips against her knuckles.

"We're in luck that this isn't a movie then, because there always tends to be a main conflict in those. Think of tonight as more a dream that you never want to wake up from."

"Good answer, I'm Victoria."

"Beck."

"I'm Cat Valentine! Nice to meet ya boysss."

Andre laughs, Beck's guessing at her spontaneity, and Beck likes this other girl right off the bat. She has red hair, reminds him of a siren. Sultry eyes, full lips, thick eyelashes, olive skin. Italy or Spain, the red hair throws him off a little. He likes the way she rolls her s's and the way her fixed stare is giving him goosebumbs in the back of his neck. He could tell she's not nervous, unlike her friend. He brushes his lips against the back of her hand, and rather embarrassingly, gives her a rather huskily said, "The pleasure is all mine. Ours rather."

"Why thank you love! Tori, this is Andre! He's musical, aren't you in love?"

Andre gives her an astonished look, "Cat, how'd you know I was musician?"

"Well I sort of guessed, I fib a good deal. But I can't really tell you how I get them right sometimes! After all, fifty percent of a woman's charm is an illusion darling!"

"Cat's quite the impressionist. You guys can call me Tori. Let's dance shall we?"

Tori smiles at us and grabs Cat's hand, heading towards the people on the floor already. She turns around and flicks her finger at us, to join them.

"It's a game tonight, I generally don't like these. These girls are interesting though."

"Andre, live it up a little. Live the thrill, they're both super attractive. We're both lucky. Did you notice who was white and who was gold?"

"Cat has the pink gold. Tori the yellow gold. Which means that Robbie probably got assigned to the white gold. You have the envelopes?"

"No, Sinjy already gave it to them. Looks like it's just a matter of who's bracelet we get by the end of tonight."

"You enjoy this too much man. Leave it to you to make light out of being blackmailed and selling yourself for money."

"It's called Carpe Diem, or as the people on my twitter feed hashtag, YOLO."

"I hate you bro."

"Love you too man."

"Ready?"

"Set…"

"Go."

And so began a grown up version of capture the flag. By the end of the night he would have a new bracelet to add to his collection. And as of right now, he decided that real men wore pink.

**A/N: This is...I don't even know what this is. Probably going to be a two or three shot. Excuse me, really. Kind of just always wanted Beck to be a man of the night. Read/Review/Rejoice.**


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